accept. embrace. live.

My transition has gone quickly. It's only been 400-and-change days since I first stepped into Martha's office. My original timeline had me possibly going full-time the winter of 2011-12. I ended up taking that step over a year earlier than I thought I might. SRS, following that timeline, likely would have been in 2013. Weeeelll, as it turns out, in keeping with the pace of the rest of my transition, I'll be having surgery with Dr. Brassard in early November. I looked at him, McGinn, and Leis. Long story short, his results are spoken of to be spectacular, the aftercare is unparalleled, he does not recommend prior hair removal, and the total cost will end up being about $1000 less than the other two. Easiest decision I ever made.

With most surgeons, you remain in the area for a while after surgery, but you stay in a hotel and need a friend there with you. After you have surgery with Dr. Brassard, you stay at Asclépiade, his house of convalescence. The place is staffed by people who know how to take care of you and teach you to take care of yourself, the food is taken care of (and quite good, I'm told), and you're there with 10-12 other women going through the same thing you are. Like a soroity, I'd suppose. Speaking of, I found a Google group for Brassard girls and requested membership in it. To say I'm excited about all this is an understatement! :)

I had sent my medical history and first letter off to them along with a picture. I don't quite get why they want a picture, but whatever. Two weeks went by sans (see? see what I did there? I used "sans." That's French, you know. I need to brush up on my French.) a response, so I finally emailed to ask if they had received my paperwork yet. I got this succinct email back: "Hi, Nearest date is November 7th 2011. Please confirm." I wasn't quite mentally prepared to hear that and had to read it a few times to let it sink in. Wow. This became just a little bit more real to me. I got a little choked up. I excitedly emailed a few of my girlfriends and we chatted for a little while.

I've never hated "it." Apathy has always been the best term to describe my feeling about what I currently have. I've never enjoyed using it in the ways that most who are born with one do. These days, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, the best way to describe how I feel is that it just feels *wrong.* Out of place. It's not supposed to be there. It doesn't fit with the rest of me. I'll get that taken care of in two hundred and sixty-one days. 261 seems like a big number, especially when you write it out in words. The last 400-and-change days have flown by. I'm certain the next 261 will as well.